


i got the good side of you

by cosmicbees



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 18:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicbees/pseuds/cosmicbees
Summary: Keith has to leave, and Shiro has to stay.“The Blades need me,” Keith murmurs into Shiro’s hair, fingers brushing along the back of his neck.Shiro pulls away, blinks slowly, “I’m needed on Earth.”And that’s that.Keith leaves on a Thursday, before Shiro is even awake, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s cheek that he doesn’t feel, and departs without a word.Shiro wakes to a cold bed.





	i got the good side of you

**Author's Note:**

> this is short and not very sweet and 100% a gift for [the-black-paladins](http://the-black-paladins.tumblr.com/), who decided to text me from a bar and say "STOP!!! (pls keep going)" when I was talking about this. 
> 
> title from troye sivan's ['the good side'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ay4S61byZo)

Shiro’s always known, somewhere deep in his bones, that Keith couldn’t stay, wouldn’t stay,if it came down to it. Has always known that Keith is meant for something bigger than this, than _here_. When Keith does leave, it doesn’t surprise him, even if it does settle a dull pain behind his ribs.

“The Blades need me,” Keith murmurs into Shiro’s hair, fingers brushing along the top of his spine.

Shiro pulls away, blinks slowly, “I’m needed on Earth.”

And that’s that.

Keith leaves on a Thursday, before Shiro is even awake, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s cheek that he doesn’t feel, and departs without saying a word.

Shiro wakes to a cold bed.

He wonders, briefly, if this is how Adam felt when he left for Kerberos. If the empty aching in his chest is the same kind that manifested in Adam, knowing that he can’t stop Keith from leaving any more than Adam couldn’t have stopped him. He wouldn’t have tried to do so, as it were.

He tries not to wonder how long the ache will last.  

 

*****

 

They couldn’t keep in contact forever, no matter how advanced their technology is.

After the first year or so, their messages decrease in frequency from every day, to once a week, once every couple of months, until they stop altogether around the three year mark.

Keith stops responding, but Shiro can’t find it in his heart to give up hope. He still sends a periodic, _‘I love you,’_ or, on one particularly late night, when he’s had a few too many to drink, _‘i hope you’ll come home one day. i  don’t think i can do this without you anymore.’_

Keith’s last message, with a timestamp nearly a year before Shiro’s most recent reads simply: _‘all is well. I love you.’_

Shiro clings to that message like it’s the only lifeboat in an endless ocean, uses it to fuel his messages, his desires, and in many ways, his fantasies.

Shiro wants to try and go after Keith, to find him like Keith did so many times for Shiro. Keith has saved Shiro from death, from life, from himself, and he couldn’t repay it if he tried. He doesn’t know if he could save Keith like Keith saved him, and he wouldn’t know where to start looking for Keith in the vast, unending void of space, anyway.

Keith would have come back if he could have, would have fought tooth and nail to come home, so Shiro doesn’t try to find him.

 

*****

 

Shiro’s breakdown comes on what would have been Keith’s 25th birthday, nearly four years after his departure. He spends the whole day looking at the unsent, _‘happy birthday, babe!’_ on his comm screen, and when Matt catches him looking at the text box, at the blinking caret line, he puts a hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

“Shiro,” Matt sighs, “How long are you going to keep this up?”

He shakes his head, tired, and lets Matt pull him into a hug. Matt gathers Shiro up until he feels small, and lets Shiro cry, face buried into his shoulder until he’s dry-heaving, body used up by grief.

“You can’t do this anymore Shiro,” Matt murmurs, fingers running through the shortest parts of Shiro’s hair on the back of his neck, “Keith wouldn’t want you to be miserable. You need to be happy for him, if you’re not going to do it for yourself.”

Matt watches over his shoulder as he deletes all of the messages, including Keith’s last _‘i love you.’_

 

*****

 

It takes nearly a year after that for Shiro to start dating again, but he settles in comfortably with someone without much trouble.

Alek is kind, loving, generous, brave, and he reminds Shiro of Keith in only the most important ways. Loving him is different from loving Keith, but it’s good, _great_ even on the best of days. He builds trust, love, an actual home with him, and he counts it as a small victory.

The only other place he’d ever ever felt at home like that was in Keith’s arms.

Alek asks Shiro to marry him in a grassy park, while they’re sprawled across a bench in the late morning sunshine. A mockingbird nearby performs a poor imitation of a dove’s cry that gnaws at the back of his skull, and Shiro only hesitates for a moment, wonders ‘what if’ for no longer than the blink of an eye, before he says, “yes.”

Matt agrees to be the best man at the wedding, Pidge makes fun of Shiro’s bowtie being crooked during the ceremony, and the other Paladins all attend, offering Shiro support and warm embraces. It’s so _nice._ Shiro smiles more than he has in years, but its different now than he remembers it being--it almost hurts to do so. Almost as if he lost the muscle memory.

Maybe, he hopes, he can learn again.

 

*****

 

Not long after Shiro and Alek’s third anniversary, Shiro is woken by his comm beeping incessantly at him in the late hours of the night. It’s a message from the Garrison, alerting him to something confidential, but urgent. _‘If you could come in immediately, it would be best,'_ Commander Holt’s message reads.

Shiro rolls out of bed reluctantly, and lands on heavy, tired feet.

“Where are you going?” Alek murmurs over his shoulder.

“Work,” Shiro replies simply, leaning over to kiss him, languid with tiredness, “something important.”

Alek hums, “hurry home,” and lets his eyes flutter shut again.

The journey to the Garrison takes too long in the dark of the night, and Shiro struggles to blink the grit of sleep from his eyes, even as he descends into the lowest levels of the building. The briefing room Shiro has been directed to is at the end of a dimly lit hallway, where a number of people are gathered around a closed door.

“Shiro!” Pidge steps out from the huddle, and places a hand on his shoulder, jarring him to a stop, “listen to me. I need you to promise me something.”

“What is it, Pidge,” He sighs, trying to keep the creeping irritation that he can feel in his spine from bleeding into his voice.

“No matter what happens, promise me you’ll be okay.”

“I don’t understand,” Shiro shakes his head, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I can’t explain, okay? Just promise me you’ll do your best to be okay.” She is insistent, voice firm, and Shiro can feel her eyes drilling into him.

“I’ll be okay, Pidge.” He huffs, pushing past her towards the larger group, and Commander Holt throws him an indecipherable look before stepping aside to grant him access to the briefing room.

No one follows him in, and the door is pulled shut with a click that feels too loud, too heavy in the nearly empty room. There’s another person, seated at the opposite end of the table from Shiro, with their head bowed, and Shiro’s heart skips a beat. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t see through the tears welling up in his eyes. When he speaks, his voice is breathless.

“Keith.”

In the blink of an eye, Keith is across the room, arms wrapped around Shiro. He’s somehow taller, broader, with hair shorter than Shiro’s ever seen it, but even though it’s been the better part of a decade, he still has the same bangs covering his eyes. Shiro can’t hold back the choking sob that escapes him as he falls to his knees, still clinging to Keith.

“I thought you were dead, Keith,” He’s babbling, face pressed into Keith’s stomach, “I can’t believe you’re okay. I thought you were dead.”

Keith reaches down, trying to push the hair back from Shiro’s face, “No, I’m okay,” he says, words frantic and desperate, “I’m okay Shiro, it’s going to be okay. I’m home, and I’m okay, we’re going to be okay.”

Keith sinks down to the floor alongside Shiro, and pulls him close. They stay like that, faces pressed into one another’s necks, crying and speaking incoherently for what feels like a lifetime. Eventually Keith reaches down to take Shiro’s hand in his, the flesh one, and laces their fingers together. He freezes, and his eyes shoot down to where their hands are tangled together.

Shiro’s wedding band glimmers faintly, even in the dim light of the room.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro blurts out, trying to lean in to Keith, who has pulled away, “I’m so sorry, Keith. I’m sorry, oh my god, I shouldn’t have.” He reaches up with his free hand and goes to rake his fingers through Keith’s hair.

Keith simply closes his eyes against the tears there, tilting his head towards the ceiling. When he opens them a long minute later, he fixes them to the wall, the floor, anywhere but on Shiro, and asks, “is it good? Does he treat you well.”

“I…” Shiro considers, briefly, lying to Keith, but he just nods, eyes screwed shut, “yeah.”

Keith considers Shiro’s response, and shrugs, eyes still affixed on a point just over Shiro’s head, “then you should have. I’m glad you did.”

The words sound hollow, and Shiro has to fight the urge to crawl across the floor to inch closer to Keith. “I’m sorry,” he says instead, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I’m happy for you,” Keith sighs, and runs his thumb across the ring on Shiro’s finger before pulling his hand from Shiro’s grip, “really.”

He leans in to press a kiss to Shiro’s forehead, lingering there for a moment before pushing himself to his feet. Shiro keeps his eyes cast to the ground, and ignores the sound of Keith’s footsteps as they recede.

Keith tries to ignore the weight of the ring tucked into his left breast pocket when the door clicks shut with a looming sense of finality behind him.

And that’s that.

**Author's Note:**

> come drag me for this on [tumblr](https://patienceyieldslove.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/sheithinlove) anytime. I definitely deserve it.


End file.
